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Now that we know Hugh Jackman will be hosting this year's Oscars, its time to think about who will be on the ballot for the office pool. Academy voters only have 10 more days to pick their nominees, so all the buzz is starting to reach its fever pitch, including one possible comeback kid, Mickey Rourke (above).
Is The Wrestler really all that and a sparkly leotard? Yes, yes, it is. In no small part to Mr. Original Dick-in-a-Box. He's bookended by his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood, doing that long-suffering thing she always does so well) and his love interest/hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold Marisa Tomei. Her chemistry with the over-the-hill pro wrestler feels subtle and genuine, but her time on the pole feels a bit like an earnest acting exercise (though sadly not quite in the salacious footsteps of Demi Moore, Darryl Hannah, and of course, Jesse Spano aka Elizabeth Berkeley (ok, that last link isn't a clip of her dancing, but -- even better -- making out with Gina Gershon).
I know, I know, professional wrestling? That tawdry subculture that briefly popped up on the mainstream pop culture radar in the 1980s? The real talent is in director Darren Aronofsky's skills in keeping us one step behind Randy "The Ram" Robinson, looking over his shoulder to see the world as he does, and how the world reflects back on him. I haven't felt such intimacy with a fictitious character in a long time, especially one who is such a man's man, as they say. Who hasn't had a few fantasies about the biggest, burliest guy showing his most tender side when no one is around? And we get to watch every bare naked inch of faded tattoos, hormone-supplement hardened muscles, and tanning bed baked skin, learning more about his body than any sex scene would reveal.
Rourke's nomination is a guarantee, and for him to win, his man-to-beat is Sean Penn as Harvey Milk. Obviously my heart is fiercely with Penn, but it breaks a little towards Rourke too, especially given that the odds are Randy the Ram himself would get so close to touching gold, only to humbly falter at the end for the sake of giving the audience the dramatic climax on the ropes.
-- A. RAYMOND JOHNSON
Previously > You Say You Want A Revolution
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